


I'll be right here

by confused_carmine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Candlenights, Christmas, Cooking, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Graduation, M/M, Polyamory, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confused_carmine/pseuds/confused_carmine
Summary: The Thundermen taught each other love. They taught each other how to accept love, how to love each other, and how to love themselves. They taught each other such profound things about themselves.
Relationships: Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Argo Keene, Master Firbolg & Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg/Argo Keene, Master Firbolg/Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	I'll be right here

**Author's Note:**

> this is for mcnuggyy on tumblr bc theres not enough tendermen fics

Dinners shared together among the Thundermen were usually nothing remotely fancy, nothing substantial, but certainly good. Simple meals taught by mother's and fathers, passed down into the hands of their youngin, and then passed down again.

The Thundermen didn't have children or younger siblings to pass these teachings to, so they taught each other. Season boiling pasta water, add more spices than the recipe recommends, season your vegetables, etcetera. Most of these teachings came from Fitzroy who, among the three of them, had the most experience in meal-making. He was the only one to live in a house, anyway. 

Argo was the most accident-prone of the three, and that was a lot, considering that Fitzroy had wild magic—he seemed like a time bomb, sometimes, unpredictable and dangerous. His roommates didn't seem to mind, thankfully.

Fitzroy and the firbolg learned early-on that Argo Keene shouldn't be trusted with boiling pots and knives unsupervised. And even when he was supervised, things seemed to easily go wrong.

"Ow, shit!" Argo hissed, dropping the knife on the counter and holding his hand.

Fitzroy looked up from what he was doing, alarmed. "Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?"

Argo nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine, though." Argo peeked at his hurt hand, surprised by how much it was bleeding already. 

"Come on, I'll help you clean it up. Master firbolg, do you think you can run this junction without us for just a moment?"

"I vill...do my best," the firbolg said, continuing the kitchenwork.

"You're so clumsy," Fitzroy said, leading Argo off into the bathroom and grabbing the first aid kit feom beneath the sink.

"Yeh, haha, it's a talent o' mine," Argo said, holding out his wounded hand for Fitzroy to work with.

Fitzroy began to disinfect the wound as he spoke to Argo. "Did you get hurt out on the sea like this?" Fitzroy asked. "Were you this clumsy, I mean?" 

"Not *as* clumsy, mostly 'cause I didn't hafta cut stuff too often. But I did get hurt a lot, yeah."

Fitzroy giggled, causing Argo to giggle too. "You're such a bad rogue," Fitzroy joked. "You're so clumsy."

"Yer not much better o' a sorcerer!" Argo jabbed back with a playful grin. 

They laugh with each other as Fitzroy takes care of Argo.

"I could be a better rogue than you," Fitzroy said.

"An' I could be a better sorcerer than ya," Argo said.

"You don't even have magic!" 

"Hey, I have my water cantrip!" 

"You can shape water, that's it."

"S'still somethin'!" 

"It's not even useful! When would you ever need to use your water cantrip?"

The fire alarm blared, startling them out of their banter.

"It is burning!!" The firbolg shouted from the kitchen.

"Right about now," Argo said, casting shape water and running out to the kitchen.

The meals that they shared for dinner started getting better and better as they worked together, as they experimented with meals and such. There would be laughs of shyness, happiness, and sometimes confusion. There would be memorable grazes of hands that sent warmth through the bodies of which those hands belonged to. There would be soft gazes and questionable looks shared, too.

Before every meal, they'd share a look, as if preparing themselves for whatever monstrosity they've made. They've made very good and very bad meals before.

"You take the first bite," Fitzroy said, looking at Argo. 

"Nuh way, not after las' time!" Argo laughed.

"Was last time even that bad?" Fitzroy asked, sounding unsure of himself.

"*Yes*, we had food poisonin' fer a week!" Argo crossed his arms. "I'm not takin' first bite."

"Well neither am I!-"

"For de love of Christ," the firbolg chimed in, exasperated, "I vill do it!" The firbolg picked up his fork, and scooped up some of the food on his plate, surprised by the taste. "Is...wery good," he said.

Hesitantly, Argo forked up some of his own food, taking a bite. His eyes widened, and he grinned. "Tha's...that *is* good!" He said, prompting Fitzroy to take a bite.

"Hell yeah, boys, successful meal!" Fitzroy cheered, and Argo chimed in. They got a grin from the firbolg, and that's all the celebration they needed from him to know that it was, in fact, successfully made. 

Cooking isn't the only thing that the Thundermen taught each other.

The Thundermen taught each other culture. Candlenights was a very odd holiday in the Thundermen abode, because they all came from very different backgrounds. Argo and the firbolg were the least familiar with the more traditional things, like putting presents under trees and hanging up decorations. 

Argo's celebrations involved dances and shanties, ones that Argo knew by heart. He danced with his friends a lot on Candlenights eve, sharing laughs when something would go innocently wrong. 

Fitzroy stepped wrong, and almost fell, before being grabbed swiftly by the arm and being pulled up. "Be careful," the firbolg said with a grin.

Fitzroy flushed red, and he nodded. "I'll try my best," he said, his heart softening for his friend just from the smile.

Fitzroy was the best dancer out of the three, and it had showed. Argo came in a close second, though—not only because he was a good dancer, but because he knew all these moves and steps by heart.

Argo skipped in circles, arm locked with the firbolg as he sang a shanty. Argo passed the firbolg off to Fitzroy, and the firbolg skipped around with him, arms locked. Finally, Argo and Fitzroy spun, arms locked. Though their neighbors probably hated them, they were having a wonderful time.

Firbolgs prayed. They performed prayers and offerings for their gods, put on paints and gathered in a ring. 

The firbolg put paint on the faces of his friends. He seemed so happy to share his upbringing with them, to show them firbolg culture.

The firbolg ran his thumb along Fitzroy's forehead, followed by Argo's. "Red," he said, talking about the paint color, "for love. Ve love our clan, and our clan loves us. Red is wery important color." 

Argo shared a glance with Fitzroy, and smiled. He wasn't used to this sort of thing, but he certainly didn't mind. Fitzroy flicked his eyes away, grinning to himself.

"Green," the firbolg said, as he drew two lines across Argo's and Fitzroy's cheeks. "Green is for harmony and growth." The firbolg put these lines on himself as well.

The firbolg drew a few more lines on Fitzroy's and Argo's cheeks. "Blue," he said, "is for loyalty, truth, and trust. Ve trust our clan. Ve are truthful to our clan." 

"And vhite," The firbolg drew one last line, on the forehead again. "Vhite is for safety. Ve are safe with our clan, because dey vill protect us." With that, their paint was finished. "Now, ve pray," the firbolg said, putting his hands out for this friends to take, and he smiled when they did.

They prayed that night, thankful for the bonds that held them. 

The Thundermen taught each other love. They taught each other how to accept love, how to love each other, and how to love themselves. They taught each other such profound things about themselves.

The firbolg woke up late one night to the sound of pitiful sobs. His ears twitched, and he looked around in the dark, listening for where it was coming from. The noise lead him to Argo's room, where he heard Argo's little sobs. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door.

"Come...uh...come in!" Argo said, frantically wiping his tears away.

The firbolg stepped inside the room, frowning at Argo's poorly hidden state.

"Vhy...do you...cry?" The firbolg asked, stepping closer until he was in front of Argo.

"S' just...I'm sorry, I feel worthless, an'...I'm sorry, I-"

"Shhh," the firbolg shushed him. "Do not...apologize. You are okay." The firbolg scooped Argo up and sat on the ground with him, rocking the genasi. "You vill be okay."

Argo sobbed harder, burying his face in the firbolg's chest.

Fitzroy walked into the room, looking exhausted. He paused when he saw Argo, and then frowned, walking closer. "Is everything alright?" He asked, and the firbolg opened one of his arms. "Hugs," he said.

Fitzroy slid under the firbolg's arm and wrapped his arms around Argo, whispering comforting words to him until Argo was calm again.

They shared silence together as Argo came down from his panicked state.

"I love ya guys," Argo said finally, face still tucked into the firbolg's chest.

"What?" Fitzroy was taken by surprise. Did he hear that right?

"I jus' mean...we've been through so much...I love ya both a lot." 

"I...love you both...too," the firbolg spoke up, making Argo grin.

"I love you two knuckleheads, too," Fitzroy said fondly, closing his eyes as he drifted off with the two of them. They were gonna be okay.


End file.
